The morning light in Lady Chen's chamber was blinding — a cruel, unforgiving brightness that crept through the latticed windows, prying into every shadow. It was the kind of light that revealed everything a person wanted hidden.
The air reeked faintly of sandalwood and spilled tea, and the silence was broken only by the sound of servants carefully sweeping the shards of porcelain from last night's rage.
They froze when the doors burst open with a violent crack.
Lord Chen Guiren stormed in, his heavy steps rattling the floorboards, his fury palpable like heat from a forge. His beard was uncombed, his silk robes hastily thrown over his shoulders, the golden embroidery darkened by sweat and anger.
The attendants immediately dropped to their knees, foreheads pressed against the cold tiles. None dared to breathe too loud.
Lady Chen rose from her seat near the window, startled, her fingers tightening around her handkerchief. "Father, you shouldn't—"
She didn't finish.
